


Mermaid

by Farmboy



Series: The Return of John Crichton [2]
Category: Farscape
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Espionage, Gen, Intrigue, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farmboy/pseuds/Farmboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To save Pilot's dying race, Aeryn agrees to the impossible. But hidden agendas draw old enemies and old friends together as nations and spies clash to gain power over Pilots and wormholes. The fate of an entire planet hangs in the balance as John and Chiana rely on Scorpius to get them out of this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dead Woman Walking

Pilot whispered to himself in his den high above the planet, hoping she could hear him.

It had been quiet on her end of the line now, he had been speaking so long, describing the details of the bonding process, the pains and experiences she could expect to happen to her, and less and less Pilot knew what to say. The silences grew longer. It pained Pilot to think about it, but this may very well be the last time they spoke.

Moya was troubled. Inside his head he heard her voice, like the pressure building inside the long chasm of the den. The reverberating hum traveled down and back again, across Moya's spine, like a shiver.

“This kind of procedure has never been done before,” Pilot said, admitting his ignorance.

He had searched through the libraries in his mind, the data-banks stored deep in Moya's bones, for any references to guide his advice, and failed. He searched again while they spoke, his claws typing in the air to form words in languages he couldn't understand, bypassing the encryptions installed by Velorek many cycles ago to protect the Peacekeeper archives. But even he had never dared to perform such an operation, only lost souls like Namtar in his lab somewhere in the Uncharted Territories.

He wished he could see her, he wished that she was standing in his den right now, holding his cheek, but the operation would mean he never would again, that both of them would be locked away from each other forever.

“I'll miss you,” he said to the air.

“I know, Pilot,” Aeryn said. Her voice cracked. “I'll miss you too.”

“Goodbye, Captain Sun.”

 

***

 

John sat at the edge of her bunk, waiting for Pilot's voice to fade away.

The room was little more than a prison without bars. It reminded him of the suite assigned to him when he was engaged to Princess Katralla on the Royal Planet, so many years ago. All luxury, but no comfort. This suite had no windows. All earthen tones, no color. The paintings had no people in them, only red triangles and white dots.

Aeryn was lying on her bed, quietly breathing. There was a time when they would've talked strategy, the plan, any way to get out of this, to keep surviving and running to the next mess.

Time. They used to have so much of it.

John stared at the wall. “I'm not gonna give up, you know. This isn't over.”

“Good,” Aeryn said. “You shouldn't. You've got to keep fighting. For D'Argo. For Zhaan.”

Without warning, the doors opened and their limo had arrived. These nervous young Peacekeepers marched in on the rug to present their arms, followed by their commanding officer Deccan, an unassuming man with dark eyes and a greased up bound ponytail that glimmered in the light and hung down his back, glistening like his dark red uniform. He was a scientist, but he still gave John the creeps.

“Commander,” Deccan nodded in passing. “Captain?”

“I'm ready.”

 

***

 

They marched from the facility and into darkness. John's boots sank into the soggy mud, leaving detailed imprints across all the thousand of other bootprints that had been left in the path in front of them. Giant towers lit up their way, huge installations like in football stadiums, that revealed big reflective pools in the ground, craters, scattered around the entire valley. If it weren't for those lights blinding him, John could've seen an entire universe of bright stars in the sky above him.

Then, the ground beneath them shook, reminding them of their imminent plight.

As they came closer to the crowd that had gathered at the heart of the valley, an entire procession of people that had come to bear witness, they started to be noticed. From the watery craters surrounding them rose up giant crab-like centipedes, of Pilot's kin. Once they started to ascend, it didn't seem like they ever stopped. Their long tails had them rise high up above them, almost as high as the light installations scattered around the valley, all scales and shells, tall and muscular with giant claws for hands and a million tendrils and tentacles with which they felt the air. Some of them where blue and white, some were red and black. It was as if they were suddenly surrounded by a fast-growing giant forest, giant blue redwoods with giant roots digging deep into the soil. The creatures looked down on them with a watchful eye, speaking to each other high in the air with clicks from their claws and murmurs that sounded like song, and always they returned that same distrustful stare. They did not like outsiders.

When John looked closer, he could tell they looked pale, tired, their skin was peeling, and their eyes were bloodshot. Some were drunkenly swerving back and forth because they couldn't keep upright or still. It took effort for them to endure the cold night air, but it was all worth it just to see her.

When the ground shook again, they shrieked and wailed and retracted themselves back into the soil, and the tunnels beneath the ground. They splashed back into the depths of the watery craters, back into the ocean beneath their feet. John knew they wouldn't be gone long. As they walked on through the mud, their every step vibrated through the soil. They knew exactly where they were.

These were their breeding grounds.

 

***

“Crichton!” she yelled out. “Crichton! Is it true?”

The microt they reached the outskirts of the crowd, a white-haired figure burst from their ranks and pushed everyone aside to get to them. John was glad to see her, but it couldn't have been timed worse.

He tried to signal her to stay away, wave his hands, shake his head, subtly show he was holding his gun, but it was no use. She was either too stupid or too stubborn to stop. John subtly separated from his entourage when it became obvious she wasn't going to listen, and rushed towards her, but when the ground shook again, this time with a violent wailing sound, she almost fell into his arms.  
She was dressed in a skintight leather outfit, guns and knives strapped all over her body. There was a fresh scar on her beautiful face.

He picked her up and grabbed her. Her nose was inches away from his as he stared into her eyes.

“Stay back!” he hissed loudly. Wisps of her white hair stood out between his fingers.

“Don't let them see you. Where's Rygel?”

“He's gone,” she sighed. “He took the kids.”

“D'Argo? Zhaan? They're okay?”

“I put them on the boat myself. Look, I've got Scorpius. We could get you out. We got guns.”

“Don't.” John looked back to see if there was still time to catch up.

He couldn't explain it to her. There wasn't time.

“It's okay. I've got this. Just keep your head down and I'll find you.”

“Crichton!”

“Don't do anything!” he said, running back up the hill to where his wife was waiting.

 

***

 

“Make way!”

They stood at the side of an immense cliff. It seemed like hundreds of people crammed together to see into the depths below. John hadn't a clue where they all came from. Were they all scientists? Was there a colony of Sebaceans settled close by?

John nudged his way closer to Aeryn. He loved the way her raven black hair danced in the wind.

The light blinded him, and yet it sharpened her every detail, and lit up every hair and every crease in her leather jacket.

“Are you still sure about this?”

“Stop asking me that question,” she replied.

John nodded. “'cause I'm not.”

They watched as a crane moved on the other side of the chasm, carrying a giant platform that would take them down into the throbbing darkness below.

“But you'll stay with me, right?” she asked, fumbling for his hand. His fingers intertwined hers.

He looked into her eyes.

“Always.”

 

***

 

In the light of the towers he was a shadow ringed by light. She recognized him by his sigh of displeasure. Scorpius always found something to complain about.

“Chiana, where is the Pod?”

Chiana waited before answering. A lie would've taken too much effort.

“I told Rygel to take the kids back to Moya. They aren't safe here.”

He smiled his sarcastic smile, and Chiana noticed his fingers curling into a fist, and then letting go.

“None of us are safe here. This planet is about to crack like an egg.”

Chiana looked at her boots, covered in mud. Then she noticed one of the Pilots hovering above her, like a flower in the wind. She watched it as it watched her, and it was slowly coming down, its giant tail of claws disappearing into the waters, until they were almost at eye-level.

She wanted to reach out and touch it, but she knew that once she would it'd be scared off.

“Tell Rygel to bring the Pod back.”

Chiana didn't have to think about this one. She looked back down and thought about John and Aeryn. Above the cliff she could see the crane lowering its metal cables, to descend the platform carrying her friends into whatever awaited below.

“No.”

“Chiana...?”

“No, I won't.”

Scorpius instantly lost his patience.

“Crichton is already lost. You can't help him anymore. Either he solves his own problems or he doesn't, in which case we have to leave. Now.”

“No,” she told him. “They're my friends. I'm not leaving them.”

“I can admire such loyalty, but I won't respect stupidity. I expect this of Crichton, but not from you.”

Chiana didn't care. This was her mission, not his.

“What are you looking at?!” she finally snapped at the creature watching them.

It shyly sank into the water, crossing its claws against its chest. Immediately Chiana changed her mind. “No, wait!”

Scorpius watched Chiana plead to the creature to stay, but it vanished into the water, crushing her hopes.

“You've got to help my friends,” she muttered to the air. “They're down there.”

Silence. A bubble popped up and burst on the surface of the water in the crater.

Chiana was on her knees in the mud, her hands full of dirt. Then the creature resurfaced, its blue shell breaking the surface of the water. Its eyes were completely black, ringed by white, and clearly sensitive to the bright blinding light coming from above. It looked like Pilot, except younger, smooth like a tadpole, sleek and wet, with flaps of transparent skin. It was still skittish, but curious.

“Hello,” Chiana said. The creature seemed to understand and smile, although he still didn't trust her and she didn't blame him. It took a while for him to formulate a word. She could see him thinking and trying.

“Hello,” he said.

“I'm sorry,” Chiana went on. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

He blinked with his third eyelids.

“Are you..... Peacekeeper?” he asked. “Mother said the Peacekeepers would take care of us.”

Scorpius crouched down beside Chiana to face the creature. “It's a child.”

 

***

 

Only moonlight illuminated the bottom of the canyon, but when the crane lowered them even further and further, it was as if they were literally being swallowed whole.

Deccan turned on his lamp, and when ordered to, the two young soldiers did the same.

“Don't be alarmed,” he told them as they turned the light towards the darkness surrounding them.

Instead of rock, they found pink and blue flesh, often black at the edges, from where the Peacekeepers had drilled their hole with a laser, and green where the corrupted infected slime oozed out of the crevices and wounds. There were spider-like creatures crawling from hole to hole, which skittered away when the light touched them, as if it burned their skin.

It seemed to take forever for the platform to stop. John figured they'd run out of cable at some point.  
Slowly a grotesque doorway rose from beneath the platform and they jerked to a standstill beside it. Deccan lead the way this time. Small lights pierced into the ceiling showed the way through the dark tunnel, lined with intestines.

Aeryn never hesitated or stopped, never flinched or looked away. She accepted all of it. All of what would soon become a part of her.

 

***

On some level, Pilot envied Aeryn.

As he looked out on his homeworld, he'd close his eyes, and search the silence. Moya listened with him.

The bond he now shared with Moya, he once shared with a million different lifeforms. His brothers, his sisters, his family, his kin. He gave it all up so he could see the stars. He didn't ever regret it, but sometimes he did miss them.

Aeryn was about to hear their song for the first time, something he could never hear again.

When he closed his eyes this time, the only thing he could hear was Rygel shouting.

***

 

Chiana rushed to the edge of the cliff. She had to see it for herself.

There was something all right. The crevice cut deep through the planet's surface, and the edge was so clean cut Chiana refused to believe it was natural. The Peacekeepers must've dug deep to find the creature, and the source of all things Pilot. When it sighed, the mountains sighed. When it moved, the mountains moved. Whenever it breathed, a huge mound seemed to rise up from the lake of underground water at the bottom of the crevice, only to sink again.

She watched how a platform was slowly being raised from a small hole in the creature's back. There was nobody on it.

“Crichton...” she tried to reach him with her comms, but there was no reply.

 

***

Surgeons in silver aprons, masks and gloves waltzed right past him. A beehive of people moving to and fro in preparation of the procedure, and John just stood there like a statue, watching them.

John gritted his teeth. His fingernails dug deep into the flesh of his fist. He wasn't someone to start pacing, or to second-guess his wife again. This was her choice. There was nothing he could do about it. He would support her, even if that meant he'd risk losing her.

This was the woman that stood by his side as he watched the universe burn. He risked all their lives, their family, for a chance at peace. For the bigger picture. The greater good. By what right could he now tell his wife to stop, take her hand and drag her away from all this? For their children, for their family. But this was Pilot's family, and they had made a promise to help, no matter the cost.

This was an entire planet, an entire species, whose lives were at stake, and Aeryn was the only one that could help them.

She was told to lie down on a bed in the operating room and was given a sedative, while a strange purple concoction was slowly dripping into her veins now to prepare her nervous system for the inevitable electrical storm that will course through her body.

Her eyes were large and she was breathing heavily. John could tell she was high on her medication. The chance for a last sober conversation with his wife had come and gone. He sat down by her bedside, took her hand and squeezed, knowing now it was time to lie. He told her it was going to be okay. He was going to be there for her. He repeated Pilot's description of the process, praising the big guy's intelligence and calm. She looked into his eyes like a frightened child, her willpower dulled by drugs.

“You've got Pilot's DNA, remember? It's why you're perfect for the job. You were linked to Talyn with the neural transponder. Stark. Remember, Stark? Remember when he bonded with Talyn as his Pilot? We cut him down and he was fine. You're gonna come back from this. I'll see you again.”

“I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry.”

“No, no, no, no.... hush.”

He pressed his lips on her forehead. “We're in this together.”

Salt stung his eyes and it became harder to smile. He couldn't breathe through his nose anymore. It's like his face had swollen up. He persevered through the pain, found her, looked at her, and when he told her she was going to be okay, he meant it. When he told her they would be a family again, he meant it. There was no doubt in his mind that she would survive the procedure. After the Peacekeepers and Scorpius and the Scarrans and Nebari, nothing was ever going to separate them again.

“We are ready,” commander Deccan announced curtly. He waited patiently while John said his goodbye.

The nurses removed the brakes from the bed and pushed her through the curtains into the sterile area of the room. As the curtains moved, John caught a glimpse of a tray of scalpels and other shiny implements. It took a lot of effort to restrain himself and not rush inside waving his gun, to call the whole thing off. A mask was placed on Aeryn's pale face for her to breathe in. Her consciousness faded, and John looked away.

The machinery beeped, and the surgeons became quieter as the operation went on. John realized it was now or never. If the bonding graft tissue rejected Aeryn she'd have to be disconnected instantly or it could kill her.

“Go go go!” they suddenly cried out, and patient and surgeons rushed out of the room and John followed them out, his heart racing. There was a different door this time, unlike all the others he'd been through in this place. A different tunnel, more streamlined, and at the end of it, he couldn't believe it.

The Peacekeepers had recreated Pilot's den, but it looked like it was made entirely of brain matter and black scaffolding. The hall was an immense chasm, but the walkway into the center was wide and straight. The structure was black with red touches, all mercilessly straight, black columns rising above them into the brain of this immense creature they were inside of.

John wondered how big it was, if this was just the brain. It must be the size of a whole continent, or maybe even the entire planet. Maybe the planet surface was just the eggshell, and the Pilots were growing up out of it like plants, or symbiotic lifeforms that had evolved to bond with their giant ancestor. Mother Nature was immense.

They installed an unconscious Aeryn into a grotesque throne, with fleshy cables surgically grafted into her arms, feet and body, with the biggest one lodged into the back of her neck. Below her feet an entire team of engineers worked to connect those cables to the brain of the beast. Some of them were working a mile down below.

Knowing the electrical synapses of the humongous creature might short-circuit Aeryn with a single thought, they grew a converter out of its flesh and installed it as a gateway between Aeryn and Mother. Its signal pulsed through the black column, like a dark mechanical heartbeat within.

“A Pilot with a Sebacean pilot,” John muttered to himself.

They hoped Aeryn could bring guidance to the old girl's thoughts, and stability, in the hopes of saving a dying race, or for some, to tame this creature and enslave its power.

“If she dies...” John told Deccan, as he looked down on Aeryn laying lifeless in the seat of Pilot.

Deccan slowly turned to him. “You'll kill me?”

John furiously hoped he'd never have to finish that sentence.

 

***

The procedure took hours. Mother didn't like them tampering inside her brain. Any random laser burst could set off a sudden jerk that rocked the entire chamber.

As they finished, the engineers and doctors recommended that they let Aeryn heal, but Deccan would have none of it.

“Activate the converter! We need to know if it works now!”

John was too late to stop him. As electrical charges surged through the columns Aeryn jolted upright, seemingly lifted out of her seat by the weight of the cables themselves, like a puppet on a string. She was screaming.

“The Mother's consciousness! It's too much for her!”

“Wait!” Deccan spoke. “Let her process it. She must learn to adapt! Focus, Aeryn! Focus!”

John ran towards Aeryn to try and pull her down, but he couldn't. She was now hovering over him, her eyes wide open, but not seeing.

“Aeryn, can you hear me?!” he yelled. “Remember what Pilot said! You have to listen to her! You have to focus. Or just focus on me. Can you do that?”

“John? John, is that you?”

“Find me, Aeryn. Come back to me.”

“I hear you, John, but far away.”

“It's me, Aeryn.”

“It's just so much.... so much...”

It took a while, but in the end it settled. Aeryn reached out and felt for his hand.

“We're okay now,” she said. “I feel her.”

John's thumb touched the ring on her finger.

“Good god, I married a planet.”


	2. In the Name of the Mother

“Her name is Orona.”

John put his hands down on the black console, watching her intently.

Even while sitting in her massive seat (a throne which would've made anyone but Aeryn look like a child; she looked like a queen) she still seemed to be hovering; even with her hands softly touching the armrests, she never seemed to be anchored on solid ground. She wasn't leaning on it, nor putting any weight on it. The chair held her like a bubble would hold in air.

“You okay?” John asked, but Aeryn waved his question away, turning her head down suddenly as if she was suffering indigestion and about to throw up.

“Mother's consciousness is huge,” Deccan spoke. “You're getting better at filtering out the signals, but for now you'll have to take it slow. One day at a time.”

A week had passed since Aeryn was first hooked up to this giant creature, the size of a planet, and the scientists had never stopped tinkering. There were days that Aeryn passed out completely, and the Peacekeepers would scramble frantically to keep their damn systems running, but so far the procedure had been a success. Orona was accepting Aeryn.

Deccan, the Peacekeeper scientist in charge of this project, observed Aeryn keenly, almost in awe, like a painter looked at his painting, frustrated that he wasn't getting it just right. All John could see was his wife, chained bodily to a giant monster.

John's visits were becoming shorter. Since the Peacekeepers found his presence was becoming more and more unnecessary, they 'suggested' he move out of their way to let them continue with their work.

He got the strangest feeling the Peacekeepers didn't like him very much. Considering his history with the Peacekeepers, he didn't have to wonder why. He returned their disdain in kind.

At the end of the day, when the day shift of scientists and technicians were being replaced by the night shift, John joined them on the elevator in silence. In their mess hall, he ate alone. In his bunk, he slept alone. But on the seventh night, things changed.

There was a voice reaching out to him in his sleep. Suddenly he was in a long dark hallway. It was damp and there were rocks all around him. Water trickled past his feet. As he walked on, the walls around him started shrinking. The hallway grew smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a rocky tunnel through which he had to crawl on his hands and feet. There was a light at the end. He had to reach it.

“John!”

Then it was like he'd had the dream before. It turned lucid, because he was aware. The rock felt so real to the touch, even though he knew it wasn't. The light was so far away, but the darkness so close behind him as he looked back. Suddenly he realized he had a tail.

“John!”

The voice activated his senses in bed and the dream crumbled and faded, replaced by dark reality. He could feel the bed, the sheets, the walls of his earthen cell, his heart slowly expanding in his chest, and his muscles aching as he awoke. But the voice was still there, no longer as clear as it was before. In the dream it was like she was standing right behind him, but now Aeryn sounded far away, farther and farther, fading into a distant well.

“John!” Sweat was sticking to his body.

“John! Get me the frell out of here!”

 

****

 

“Was it a dream?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Chiana was sitting at the edge of his bed, almost curled up as comfortable as a cat with her feet in a meditative position tucked under her butt. Often she coyly brushed the hair from her eyes.

“Crichton, I've got dreams of Nerri and.... and D'Argo, all the time. It's no big deal.”

John briefly stopped pacing. “She's not dead!”

“Well, neither is Nerri!”

“That's not...”

“I know... but are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure!”

“You know I had to ask.”

John understood. He knew how crazy he sounded right now, but it's not as if they've encountered worse before. Stark sent a message to Zhaan once, and they all thought her crazy, until his head suddenly appeared, holographically that is, in the palm of her hand.

“Aeryn sounded upset, but more lucid than I've ever heard her, since before the operation.”

“So how does this work? She's a telepath now? But only in dreams?”

“Ask Pilot. Maybe he knows more.”

Chiana nodded.

“So, what are we gonna do? We could just go down her and cut the cord, rip her out, and run.”

Maybe. They were stupid enough to try.

John shook his head, to try and shake the idea off. “She'd die. Her mind is linked to Mother now. We need the Peacekeepers to destroy the link safely.”

Chiana thought about it.

“Or not.”

“What? You got something?”

“We could always ask Mother.”

John didn't like that idea.

“It's either that or we hire a Diagnosian.”

He didn't have a problem talking to Moya. In fact, he never would have had a problem with this plan before. Except this Hand of Friendship business never goes down well. Having people mess with your mind... If John could have fixed it by shooting he would have. There was a lot of bad blood there that wasn't ever gonna go away.

“I never should have let her go through with this,” he spoke.

“And yet you did,” an icy voice arose, followed by a figure that stepped into the light.

John's face turned to stone. Chiana held her breath.

“You here to gloat, Scorpy?” John said. “Isn't there a Command Carrier you should be right now?”

“Perhaps,” Scorpius replied. “Given what you are about to do. You know they can hear you?”

John remembered the guards that patrolled the hallways of this complex. He pushed past Scorpius and closed the door.

“Why are you here, Scorpius? Nobody wants you here.”

“I brought him here,” Chiana said. “He's....he's my boss.”

John looked down at Chiana, but wasn't going to go into that. Her plans were her own, as was her life.

“That's not the only reason I'm here,” Scorpius said smugly. Chiana had no idea what he was talking about.

“Who do you think is funding this place, John?”

John snapped into action as soon as it clicked in his mind. He couldn't sit still. He was shaking all over.

“I'm the Project Overseer,” Scorpius confirmed it.

“Research into Pilots,” John spat into Scorpius's face. “Compatibility with wormhole weapons.”

“The Builders. The Ancients,” Scorpius added to his list.

“Talyn. Biomechanical weaponry. Are you sure you want to follow in Crais's footsteps?”

“Hardly.”

Then John swallowed his pride. “Do you have the authority to get Aeryn out of there?”

Scorpius lowered his gaze. “No.”

“Why not?” Chiana asked.

“Because I'm Project Overseer.”

Slowly, John started to nod.

“Too much responsibility. Too much at stake. You can't pull the plug now without blowing the whole place up, and if that happens, the Peacekeepers are gonna lose all of their slave ships. 'Cause you can't fly a Leviathan without a Pilot.”

“There is a way,” Scorpius said.

“Why'd you want to help us?” Chiana asked.

John didn't care. He countered: “Why should we trust him?”

When John looked to Chiana, she shrugged. “You got a better plan?”

 

****

 

Commander Deccan was tall, unassuming, and cerebral. The study of these symbiotic life forms suited him perfectly; to be stationed on this far away outpost, left alone to his work in the dark.

He walked along the black bridge spanning the chasm with long strides, and carefully absorbed it all. This is what success felt like. Standing on the edge of a knife.

The technicians scurried to their posts, only saluting him nervously if he got in their way. He didn't pay them any attention.

Aeryn's head lay slumped across her chest, seemingly asleep. The amount of anesthetics in her system was sufficient to fell two Luxans, but still she slowly raised herself when he approached, half opening her eyelids to see who it was. She slunk back into her seat when she saw it wasn't her husband.

“I'm sorry about the bucket,” Deccan told her.

The first day they connected her, they forgot to install the waste disposal system. Deccan regretted having to put her through such indignities. Now two tubes had been surgically installed into her guts, that were continuously pumping nutrients into her body, and out again.

“I doubt that you came all this way just to talk about my bowel movements,” Aeryn said.

“No,” Deccan admitted, amused. He removed the mechanical chart from its holder and held it in his hands like a book. Red symbols lit up. He checked her vital signs, her heart rate, her blood pressure. He lowered the settings of the nutrient flow, and then put the chart back in its hold.

“Vitals seem fine, at least better than yesterday,” he spoke. From his pocket he took a small light and began to shine it into her eyes to illicit a pupil reflex. The medication still kept Aeryn incredibly intoxicated and numb. After a solar week, the scars from surgery were still fresh.

“The medication is affecting your healing rate, but it doesn't seem to pose a problem, yet. Physically you are fine. How about mentally? Are you experiencing hallucinations? Memory loss?”

There were dark rings around her eyes. She looked pale and sick. Her smile was like a skull.

“No,” Aeryn said. “In fact, Mother won't let me forget. So many new experiences for her... Emotions... She's pouring over all my memories and I can't stop her. It's bringing back a lot of old pain...”

“I see...”

“But she means well. I tell her about Moya, and my Pilot. She loves that. I think they could get along well.”

“What about the other Leviathans? Have you talked to her about that?”

Aeryn struggled to focus. The change in conversation sparked a change in thought patterns. She fought to cope with the onslaught of information rushing across her spine and into the back of her mind.

“What happens when you enter her memories? What do you see?”

“Darkness,” she answered. “And song.”

 

****

 

There were four Leviathans in orbit around the planet right now, gliding in formation beneath two Command Carriers. Moya was excited when she first spotted their approach. Compared to her they were tiny, so young, and she wanted to greet them, until she saw the control collars around their necks.

Pilot calmed her down when she grew restless. Memories of pain and captivity swarmed him as well, and fear. Even though their presence was permitted by the Peacekeepers, they still chose to follow Crichton's suggestion and stay hidden in the shadow of the fourth moon, and communications were kept to a minimum.

“Any word from Hyneria?” Rygel asked. His small hand massaged his royal belly to counter the indigestion.

With the Leviathans still firmly in his mind's eye, Pilot searched all frequencies, and found his memory banks empty. It had even been some time since Crichton had contacted them. Perhaps days, with no news of the happenings on the planet's surface, or Aeryn's condition.

“I'm sorry, Ambassador,” Pilot spoke, knowing that addressing him with his official title would soften the blow of the expected bad news, and indeed Rygel bore it with dignity. Pilot was actually beginning to admire the little Hynerian for his patience and altruism he'd shown this solar week. Usually, he'd be the first to suggest, in his usual pompous frenzy, to leave all and everything behind to save his own life, but now that Aeryn was irrevocably attached to Mother, he'd carried himself well, even looking after the children with great care.

Their mother's absence was hardest on the children after all.

“Where is that frelling escort I was promised? We shouldn't be left unprotected.” Rygel somberly analyzed the dangers they were in now that an extra Command Carrier had entered the system. He sighed. “I suppose they'd pay handsomely for a royal hostage.”

He said it rather hopeful, as if he was still hoping he had some value to the universe, or anyone in it.  
“To attack your royal person means risking open war with Hyneria.”

Rygel harrumphed to himself, and scoffed at the notion of Peacekeepers needing an excuse to arrest, imprison or kill anyone. “They never did before.”

The fourth moon slowly neared the orbit of the enslaved Leviathans, and Moya noted their control collars well. She hated the collars intensely.

“Hyneria won't go to war over little old me,” Rygel said. “Now wormholes, that's what gets wars started.”

“Or religion,” Fess Argolius Traal spoke.

The blue-haired Hanarian tracker sat in the shadows beneath Pilot's console, silently sharpening his wooden knives. He had red eyes, yellow fangs and wild black hair that obscured half his face. He was dressed in animals skins and studded leather that was light for hunting and hardly covered his arms and legs, revealing him to be covered in blue fur.

Rygel hadn't realized he was there, but hardly took notice of commoners like him, mercenaries, trackers, and other sorts Chiana dragged from the gutters to service her needs. Similarly, Fess took no trouble to acknowledge him.

It was at that moment a peculiar ship glided into the edges of Moya's sensors, its relative size dwarfing the Command Carrier, and even the small moon. If Leviathans could gasp, this is when she'd do it. Moya didn't like this.

She'd grown to dislike planets and other places full of humanoid life. She preferred the loneliness of the deepest reaches of outer space, and for once Pilot agreed with her, but they couldn't run now.


	3. Plan 10 From Outer Space

“Did anybody get that? 'Cause I didn't.”

“It was Pilot, but the transmission was garbled.”

“I could only make out one word.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Incoming.”

 

****

 

“Your guests are causing trouble,” the barkeep told Scorpius, and with a nod he motioned towards Crichton and Chiana in the corner of his establishment. His hands kept cleaning the counter as if they were programmed to do nothing else.

“They're lucky,” Scorpius told him, and his eyes flashed. “I like trouble.”

Crichton planted his foot on a stool as if he were carrying a flag and daring anyone to challenge his territory. The Peacekeepers in the cantina around him stood up and carried their plates someplace else.

“This isn't gonna end well,” he told Chiana, his wingman, who eyed everyone remaining and didn't stop to agree until they were assured of some privacy.

“Yeah, well, happy endings are for other people. Didn't your father ever tell you that?”

“Nope.”

“Mine did.”

John took a swing of his drink. With his other hand, he flashed his pulse pistol to anyone looking. Finally, he put his foot down again.

A distant sound grew stronger, until a low flying roaring engine seemed to shake the building and landed not far away.

Scorpius finally walked over to them. “It's time,” he said. “Stay here.”

“New plan,” John whispered to Chiana. “You and Rygel and Moya, you run. Get as far away from here as you can.”

“Sounds great. But what about you and Aeryn?”

“I'll stay here. The kids are priority now.”

“The kids need a father.”

John knew she was right, but there was no other way.

“You don't want them to end up like me. They should end up like Rygel: fat, spoiled and with diplomatic immunity.”

****

In a dark basement below the Peacekeeper compound, Scorpius had shown them the weakest link in his plan. Commander Deccan had arrived alone with the command chip ident required to open the door. No-one else was allowed to see it. They followed him into an elevator, that went briefly down and opened up to a red room. At the heart of it stood a long black cabinet, like a big black box, twice a man's size, that seemed to covered in random blinking lights. John whistled the five tunes from 'Close Encounters of the Third King' as he entered, but no-one heard him, because the noise the machine made was too loud. Deccan had to turn it down.

“This is a replica of a Command Carrier's Prime Command Node,” Deccan explained. “We are not supposed to have this. Technology of this kind, especially in the wrong hands, might tip the balance of any war in favor of our enemies.”

John appreciated how the Peacekeepers were already planning another war, after all the pains he went through to end the last one.

“No more Pilots, John,” Scorpius said. “Think of it. An entire race saved from slavery.”

Scorpius didn't care about slaves.

“So we're pitching a product now? That's the plan? We're gonna pitch an alternative to Pilot?”

“So, no Pilot?” Chiana asked. She still couldn't imagine this black machine standing in the place where Pilot sits.

“Pilots have proven to have an affinity to wormholes. Their species capability to multi-task and calculate on multiple dimensions are invaluable to understanding the properties of space/time, not to mention the Leviathan's compatibility to the weapon.”

Did Scorpius want to build a Pilot think tank on wormholes?

John could barely restrain himself. He thought it was over. He thought he was out.

“I thought...” he said. “...you were done... with wormholes, Scorpy. Remember? We fought a war over this. Remember pretty please with a cherry on top?!”

“The events at Kar'Shagga have proven to me a different approach is necessary,” Scorpius said.

Some people just never learn.

“The knowledge extracted from your Pilot's mind is still out there, John! You, nor the Ancients, no longer have the monopoly on wormhole weapons, but we do have the resources to police and monitor....”

“Cut the crap, Scorpy. WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS! FOR YEARS!”

“John...”

“SCREW YOU, SCORP.”

“We have the wisdom... and the nééd... to discover it for ourselves, before anyone else does. We have the authority...”

John walked away, and Chiana placed a hand on Scorpius's chest plate, telling him to leave him be.

“I'll talk to him,” Chiana said.

 

****

“I thought I was out....” John muttered to himself.

“What?'

“I THOUGHT I WAS OUT!” He threw his drink against the wall. The glass shattered, flying all over the place. Chiana was hesitant to approach him. She knew what he was like when he got angry.  
“Now's nót the time...” she said, her hand on his shoulder.

“Scorpy's gonna use Pilots to get to wormhole weapons!” he gritted his teeth.

“You rather they spend their live as slaves under a control collar?”

John looked away.

“This way Scorpius has a valid reason for High Command to stop harvesting Pilots, ánd he's got a thing to replace them with. And when the creature has healed, Aeryn will get to leave...”

“No, don't you get it? He's got us now. We'll never get to leave. He's got us right where he wants us, stuck in his web, writing wormhole equations for the rest of our lives. But guess what? I'm. All. Out. It's gone, Chi. Einstein took it all.”

“I know that. You know that. But the universe doesn't. Why not use that?”

“I'm done, Chiana. We had a home. We had a life, on Kar'Shagga. I'm done being hunted.”

“Well, I'm not. Done, I mean.”

She was about to tell him something she hadn't told anyone.

“Scorpius.... you... you never asked why I work for him. It's not just you. It's not just wormholes and the taskforce, but that's part of it.... Scorpius... he knows where Nerri is.”

Chiana swallowed, and John calmed down.

“We all have our agendas,” he said. “And I don't deny you yours.”

“You have a family, I know that,” Chiana said. “But so do I.”

“Hey,” He cupped her chin with his hand, turning her face so he could look into her eyes. “You're part of that family. You know that right?”

“Yeah,” she said, and smiled.

When Scorpius returned through the large doors of the compound, something was wrong.

“That's not General G'dishi,” John said. “And where's Deccan?”

It'd been raining outside. Mud stuck to the bottoms of everyone's boots. An entourage of six was lead into the building with their weapons confiscated one at a time, except for their unarmed leader, dressed in a soft gray cloak and hood, whose white hands were resting entwined, on his thin waist. There was a black ring around his finger. 

John couldn't see their faces, until they entered the light. Facing Scorpius, the hood still obscured his face, until he lowered it. His hair was coal black, and his skin was white as snow. Nebari.

Scorpius was courteous in showing them around, but they remarked the place with a passive, smiling disdain, as if they thought this soldier's barracks as something cute, and primitive, a relic of a barbaric time.

“These 'Pilots', we understand, are peaceful creatures, without violent tendencies, so they will be perfect for our experiments,” John heard the leader remark. “They will serve us well...”

“As if things couldn't get any worse....” John whispered to Chiana.

He hadn't noticed that she had frozen, as if in complete shock. She started walking straight up to Scorpius and the Nebari, and before John could stop her she was already right up into his face. The Nebari man smiled at her.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his smile a perfect picture of kindness, but his eyes were black holes.

“Chiana....” John tried to wrestle Chiana away, but at first she wouldn't budge. The party kept moving when Scorpius shot them a look, and the Peacekeepers escorted the Nebari and his entourage deeper into the compound.

“Chiana, what the hell's the matter with you?”

Glass crackled under her boot, but she didn't care. She was shaking, rocking back and forth, until suddenly she lifted her stool into the air and threw it at the bar. Within seconds, soldiers stormed towards her and John had to do everything in his power to reassure them she was just drunk, and that he was going to take her back to her room.

John grabbed her and held her close as they marched down the corridor, while everyone looked on, and he didn't let go until he reached his suite and locked the door behind him.

“Who was it?” John asked. “Did you know him?”

Chiana put all her effort into forming words.

“It was him,” she said. “Right....right down to the lines around his smile. Oh, frell, I hope I'm wrong. Please let me be wrong.”

“Chiana....”

“It was him. It was Nerri. And he didn't even recognize me...”


	4. Terms of Entrapment

“It's just you and me now, Chiana. I need you.”

She started pacing. He knew she was breaking. This was pressure point number one. This was THE pressure point. Her weak spot. It's always been Nerri, deep down, that could hurt her the most.

“Twenty years,” she said. “I don't care.”

When she tried to move past John and to the door, he pushed her back towards the bed. The room was small. There was only the bed and the door.

“We don't have time for this right now!” John said. Good god, he needed her more than she needed him. “I'm this close to doing something incredibly stupid.”

She crawled out of bed, her boots kicking up the tussled sheets, stinking of sweat. He pushed her back down.

“So why don't we do it together?” she said. “There's no-one to stop us now.”

When John tried to push her again, she pushed back, but she didn't go for the door.

“Let's kill them all. Just.... let's...”

“You and me against the world kiddo. Just not like that. Never like that.”

“Yeah...” She breathed out a laugh, singularly, self-deprecating, half-heartedly.

“Let's focus on Aeryn.”

With two hands, Chiana pushed into John's chest, her hands too fast for his defense.

“It's always about you, Crichton. Why does it always have to be about you?”

“It's not.... my.... call....” John emphasized softly. “Peacekeepers, Pilots, Nebari.....hell.... Ancients, and Hynerians, and Kalish, and Hanarians...! Let's just take them on... one at a time.”

 

****

 

“How are you enjoying the gift I sent you? You must've been getting pretty lonely on a base like that.”

General G'dishi's smirk flashed across the huge screen, a knowing perverse smile that cut through all the scars on his ancient face. He would've winked if it hadn't been for the eyepatch.

Deccan eyed the woman waiting in the corner. “Her service is impeccable.”

“Good. Murae has a way of clearing your mind by cleansing your body. She'll get you focused and the programme back on track on schedule within the time parameters.”

“I'm not sure if that is possible, General.”

The general's smile vanished. A displeased growl took its place.

“Listen to me, boy, I don't care about your pets. High Command has ordered another five hundred of them to be installed into Leviathan transport ships. We're getting them as young as possible. ever since we found the Birthing Grounds, to take away the need of a control collar.”

“Five hundred units?” Deccan spoke.

“There is a fuel shortage, and these Leviathans have no need of them. They're a miracle to the economy. We should have thought of it sooner.”

“How do I convince five hundred of them to leave their planet for good?”

“Make them. Force them. I don't care. You have all the resources at your disposal to take control of the native population as soon as you deal with your little problem.”

Little problem??

The general ignored Deccan's cries. “High Command wants five hundred now, and seven hundred next solar year. Breed them. And report back to me in the next five days.”

The transmission terminated. Deccan felt nothing but disdain for this daunting task.

“Breeding...” he muttered to himself. “That's all he ever cares for...”

The woman in the corner, Murae, took her opportunity to approach Deccan one last time.

“So,” she said, unzipping her leather front. Her full bosom was whiter than a corpse. “do you want me now?”

“No. Just leave.”

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

“You're not a real man,” she said.

Deccan brushed his sore cheek, turned his shoulder and hit her cheekbone, his black metal ring cutting a gash beneath her eye.

“I said LEAVE.” And she obeyed.

His hand was shaking in the dark.

General G'dishi was expecting a report by the end of the week. There wasn't enough time for Scorpius's plan to take effect. When the general set his mind to something it was impossible to turn it around, and with High Command taking a special interest. It must really be bad back home.

How was he going to inform Scorpius about this? He knew why High Command preferred to circumvent him rather than face him head on. Ever since he was given the title of Arbiter of the Accord, enforcer of the wormhole treaty heading a special taskforce, High Command had started to fear him. As long as he kept to the outer rim and the uncharted territories, his usefulness as an asset outweighed his risk value as a threat to the power structure of High Command.

Deccan had no interest in politics, but General G'dishi had not made a secret of his dislike of the hybrid, especially after a few drinks, and was more than willing to spill the beans on internal gossip among the higher ups once he got started. He could be equally sociable and terrifying, especially because he was so sociable. He always kept Deccan on his toes, wondering whether his next word may be his last.

A message blinked on the console in front of him and he tapped to read it. With a swipe of his hand, he moved the file to a transparant triangular glass pad he held in his hand, to read while he walked around his room. He immediately regretted it. The Nebari requested for specimens to examine before they participated in the auction.

As far as Deccan knew, there was no auction.

 

****

 

“As a token of our friendship and non-agression, I present you to this gift...”

Scorpius amiably signalled two fingers into the air and two adjudants came running in surgical uniforms pushing a large refridgeration unit into the middle of the room for inspection. When the lid opened with a hiss, after the proper acces codes were tapped into the device, it seemed to buzz for a moment, and cold air billowed from within. Nerri seemed to enjoy the smell, as he approached slowly with his arms folded behind his back. The unit's contents were straightforward.

“Its lower body, internal organs and arms are stored in a separate unit,” Scorpius said. “If you would care to inspect the other as well?”

The next refridgeration unit came rolling in at Scorpius's command, but Nerri politely declined.

“Your courtesies are noted,” Nerri said. He exuded an air of calm and grace, and impeccable awareness. Scorpius admired this trait, and would not underestimate their ruthlessness, despite their message of peace. Their leader may have been dressed in white, soft dress, but the soldiers were rigid, their faces stern and full of purple veins close to their skin. They seemed to follow his commands without a word, and Scorpius noted the two small metal stars implanted on his forehead. He recognised the devices.

“Then I will leave you to your business,” Scorpius concluded.

Nerri smiled. “Scorpius, is it?”

Scorpius waited. He did not blink as Nerri drew his breath.

“Is this supposed to impress us?” Nerri shook his head in disappointment. “We are not here to play your little games, Scorpius. You can keep your wormholes. We want the Pilots.”

Nerri's stare was calm. This was not confidence. This was certainty. Scorpius broke the stare first, smiling. “You can have them,” he said, adding: “When I am dead.”

“Unfortunate,” Nerri said, as Scorpius turned his back on him and the Nebari soldiers showed him the door. Scorpius paused. “But that can be arranged.”

Nerri smiled.

 

****

 

The rain was more an annoyance than an obstacle. They hindered his sight. In the sharp lights overhead he could see across the valley a blanket of droplets falling from the sky.

Deccan walked up to the nearest pool, fighting through a blinding reflection to watch the wind blow ripples across the water's surface. The rain was so light, it hardly seemed to touch the water.

“Sir!”

Deccan told him to stay back. He hated his new escort, he didn't need one before. Cordlin was one of his, at least, young and loyal, although usually the youngest were the more extreme in their trained obedience to anything High Command. He wasn't that bad. He was impressionable. Naive. And there was a scar across his face to remind him of that quality inside him every day. Peacekeepers could be cruel like that.

“Don't come any closer!” Deccan told him, yelling to make himself clear over the loud gusts of wind. “Or you'll scare them away!”

They weren't keen on visiting the Peacekeeper compound anyway, preferring to languish in the oceans far away, but usually their inherent curiosity lead them to heed the call anyway. Sadly, Deccan thought, naivety was their weakness as well. It might become the downfall of their species.

Deccan planted his knees into the muddy bank of the pool and lightly touched the water's surface, like drawing on a mirror. He knew the general would have preferred a more dramatic way of contacting the native species, like firing a pulse blast into the air or electrocuting the waters, but he wasn't like that, didn't work that way. Because he was better, and superior, to those barbarians floating around in their fortresses in the sky. And he knew they'd never understand.

Private Cordlin was already beginning to get on his nerves, but Deccan had no choice but to wait. Surely they would come.

Water dripped down his nose. Water poured down his brow and into his eyes. Water seeped through his clothes and clung to his skin. Yet he kept his hand perfectly still on the water, just above it so the water would magnetically cling to his skin and not disturb it. It became colder and colder, as if the touch of the water's edge spread all over his body. Then, as if he could feel the pressure rising, he knew it was coming.

With a mighty splash the creature exploded into the air, dousing Deccan with a crashing wave. Yet Deccan had not moved his hand, and felt the water level had dropped slightly now a huge mass had arisen from it.

The creature did not seem pleased to be summoned. It wanted to tower over Deccan just to scare him.

“I need to speak to the Elders!” Deccan spoke, while spitting water from his mouth. “Tell them! And tell them that it is important or else I would not have asked. The survival of your race hangs upon it.”

“The Mother?” its voice was booming, dark, yet worried.

“The Mother is fine, for now. There are other dangers. I carry warnings, and advice.

The Pilot creature started to talk in his deep mother tongue, full of strange seemingly overlapping syllables, as if he was speaking in two voices at a time, thought and voice merging in several layers at a speed Deccan could not comprehend.

“I cannot speak now!” Deccan spoke. He knew that if he'd tell them the whole story now, they'd never speak to him. It took the Elders ages to make a decision, but if he got them together and forced them to see things his way...

“Find the Elders! Plead with them on my behalf that I must see them before this night is over! There is little time!”

The creature seemed to hum, before descending with a crash back down into the depths below.

Deccan grasped his chest. It was as if he had been holding his breath the entire time.

The Elders had denied him before. They objected to him desecrating their goddess Mother by cutting her open and creating a Den and controller inside her brain. They called it blasphemy of the highest order, but the earthquakes had stopped now and the Pilots seemed healthy, so when would they admit they were wrong? For ten cycles he'd been helping this race and never have they treated him as anything but an outsider. But from experience Deccan knew, they could be courteous, when they were afraid.


	5. The Two Stooges

The moment Scorpius opened the door, two guns were trained on his egregious self. A part of him wanted to be amused, if this weren't simply a complete waste of his time. His lip curled up in disdain.

“He's all yours, Chiana,” John said, and she kicked him in the codpiece. It nudged him a little, and uncomfortably, pausing, he turned to John.

“Is this a joke?”

“She's got more where that came from. Trust me,” John added. Chiana took over from there.

“You lied to me!” she yelled, nearly forgetting where to point her weapon.

Scorpius sighed, and started walking around the small room as if the guns weren't even there.

“This is pointless,” he growled. “What answer can I possibly give you that would satisfy you? As if I even know what this is about this time.”

“You mean, you don't know? You can't remember, or can't you keep up with your own lies?”

“We don't have time for this,” Scorpius stressed, locking eyes with John. “An entire race is about to suffer because of trivial personal drama!”

“No, no, no, don't pretend you suddenly care about the Pilots, Scorp. We know you better than that. They're all just pawns in your scheme, just like everyone else. Just like us. We want the full picture,” John added. “And we want it now.”

“Yeah,” Chiana reaffirmed.

John waved the memories away. “Damnit, I'm getting Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson flashbacks. Just tell us the truth, Scorp. Why is Nerri here?”

Scorpius remained blank for a microt. “Who?”

“You know frelling well who we're talking about here,” Chiana said, moving on the cushions of her feet, uneasily swaying from hip to hip. “My brother.”

Scorpius smiled as the realization dawned on him. “The Nebari...”

Chiana shoved the gun in his face. “YOU SAID YOU KNEW! You said you knew where he was and that you could get him out. You said he was a prisoner. You said he was being tortured!”

“He was. As my contacts in the Nebari resistance would tell me.”

“You're saying you didn't know?” John pointed out, playing devil's advocate here. “I find that hard to believe.”

Scorpius suddenly drew a deep breath and raised his hand either to calm himself or them. He was in deep thought all of a sudden, or lost in some meditative trance, and John and Chiana looked at each other not sure what to do. Their guns seemed rather silly then, but when Scorpius opened his eyes again, they made sure to stand firm again.

“My contacts are tainted,” he said. He wasn't looking at either of them, seemingly looking out into some distance behind them. “The information is unreliable, dated, and manipulated. Someone planted that knowledge for me to find.”

Chiana didn't understand. “They wanted me to join the taskforce?”

Scorpius shook his head. “Someone has been monitoring our movements. Someone in our taskforce is working for the Nebari. I must contact Braca immediately.”

“Whoa whoa, sit down grasshopper. You aint goin' nowhere.”

“We have a spy within our ranks, John. Steps must be undertaken immediately.”

“That's a poor excuse to get out of this conversation.”

“I. Want. Answers,” Chiana said. “Or I'm out of your stupid team. Frell all of it.”

Scorpius stood up, erected himself in full length to face them on equal ground, and locked eyes with both of them, somehow at the same time.

“Listen to me,” he said, and his Scarran side briefly emerged. “The Nebari have found out about my interest in the Pilots and are moving to find out why. Ever since the end of the war with the Scarrans they have shown an interest in wormhole weapons, but nothing concrete to warrant a threat. That has changed. They will fight me over possession of the Pilot race for their wormhole calculation capabilities, and by tomorrow their entire species will be enslaved, or worse, if Peacekeeper High Command and Nebari Prime cannot come to terms, they would opt to exterminate them all rather than risk the wormhole knowledge falling into the wrong hands! SO ARE YOU QUITE DONE??”

John and Chiana did not lower their guns, but they all knew they weren't going to shoot.

“You were never able to see the bigger picture, John,” Scorpius added.

“You're wrong about that though,” John said, lowering his gun and stepping closer to Scorpius, so they could smell each other's breath.

“I saw the bigger picture once,” he said. “...I didn't like it.”

He sheathed Winona in her holster and walked out the door. Chiana followed, and lastly, Scorpius as well.

“I did not miss this,” John spoke out loud, like a weird self-announcement he knew Chi and Scorp would hear. “Not one bit.”

They walked down the corridors and ignored all the soldiers passing them by.

“The Pilots need you, John. And I need you.”

John ignored that. He wanted to pretend their entire previous conversation never happened.

“You of all people know the destructive capabilities of wormholes, and the dangers such knowledge presents in the wrong hands.”

John didn't want to say that the wrong hands meant 'all hands', and 'especially his'.

“If nothing else, you know that your wife is in serious danger.”

“In danger of being killed by my brother,” Chiana said. “My brainwashed brother.”

“There is a way out of this,” Scorpius said. “You must trust me.”

“Aye, there's the rub,” John said. “We don't. We don't trust you.”


	6. Bad Company

Orona was fascinated by Aeryn's memories of the smallest creatures, a whole universe beyond her understanding. Bugs, birds, spiders.... They could talk for arns and still she would not get tired.

Her voice came to her without words, without sound, as if it were being projected from inside Aeryn's own mind. They came to her like half-remembered lyrics to songs she never heard, in waves of emotions wrapped in layer upon layer of meaning and remembrance. Sometimes she could sense the distant presence of Pilot's species, as if she were watching them through dirty binoculars. She sensed them, but they could not sense her.

It amused Aeryn to talk, and it soothed Orona to listen.

“Well, that's what I meant,” Aeryn thought loudly in her own mind. Her physical body may have been bound by cables and structures, but her mind was free to wander the dark, and follow the sounds and images wherever they went. Sometimes they were mere dim lightbulbs flashing briefly and dying again, like pulsating stars in the cold of outer space, other times they were overwhelming and blinding and magnificent, and exhausting.

“Can you feel them, or are they just insects living on your skin? Are they like trees sprouting from the ground, or children growing from your body?”

 

Both. And neither.

 

It wasn't like her to be so curious, or to know much about biology, or life. Perhaps it was Orona's own sense of wonder rubbing on to her, bleeding through the connection, just like she sometimes saw her own disciplined and even merciless stubbornness reflected back at her. Orona could get cranky. When she didn't get what she wanted, she'd try to block Aeryn out of her mind, and mentally sever the link between them. Aeryn kept fighting back, and despite the physical connection, she wondered if it might even work if she gave in.

Last time she grew impatient, she didn't speak for a day. Then slowly, like a mighty rumble from the deep, a thought emerged, a question, directed at Aeryn. Orona wondered if she was still there.

“I am,” Aeryn replied, feeling the loneliness in Orona's echo.

They couldn't be more different. A Sebacean woman and a planet-sized creature. And yet the connection they shared made every thought personal to both. At first, Aeryn was afraid Orona would feel violated or attacked, but she didn't. She had been alone for so long. She had forgotten she had once been an individual being, instead of a mere whisper in the DNA of Pilot's people, guiding them from pool to pool over many centuries.

Orona liked her. She could feel it. Aeryn sent the sensation right back, flanked by gratitude and relief. It was strange to communicate in such a manner. For cycles, she'd hid her emotions, even from Crichton, and found it hard to talk about them when all he wanted was to talk emotionally. Now, there was nothing else to do but feel, and share, and talk with emotions, and Aeryn found that she did it as if she had been doing it all her life. This personal connection with Orona removed the need for pesky things like words, with which she'd never been good with, and facial tics. There was no point in acting tough or presenting oneself in a certain manner, and she didn't have to worry about inspiring the proper kind of emotion in others. Her husband needed a wife, her children needed a mother, her ship needed a captain, her friends needed a soldier. Orona saw right through the veil and saw her true self, and it scared her. And Orona didn't understand why it scared her. Orona had never been anything but Orona her entire long life.

“In our lives,” Aeryn explained. “We are many different things, often at the same time, but even as we age, we change. I am not the person I was before, when I was young.”

 

And will you change again? Are you changing right now?

 

Aeryn thought about it. “Yes, I think I am.”

That scared Orona. This single notion of discontinuity made her distrust Aeryn somehow.

“Don't the Pilots change? They must not have always been like this.”

 

Pilots? I don't know that word.

 

Aeryn sent her an image of Moya's indomitable controller. Her Pilot. She felt peace, trust, guilt, and forgiveness. It was something she only realized now as the emotions echoed back at her, like sound waves bouncing off the walls. Her love for Pilot, dissected in so many ways, almost felt quantifiable. Orona thanked her for sharing it.

 

A part of me has lived alongside you for so many cycles. He has protected you...

 

But something in Aeryn made her send more. Now that the memories came rushing back, there was no way of stopping it, but in its own way, Aeryn didn't want it to. She wanted Orona to see it.

She showed it the time she massacred Moya's old Pilot. She heard its screams again, and the anguish paralyzed her. Orona fell silent, and Aeryn felt the same sting of distrust, the fear of betrayal, Orona had shared with her before. Aeryn's pain was multiplied a thousand times over.

Orona saw the dead Pilot's face, its carcass still smoking from the pulse blasts that ended its life. The technicians proceeded to cut into its flesh. It would never wake up.

 

Is this change?

 

Aeryn found it within her heart. The words to beg forgiveness and make her understand. The woman that killed that Pilot, that is who she was, but not anymore, she was the woman that committed to this connection to save Pilots, that is who she's now.

And as she felt it, Orona felt it. As she saw it, Orona saw it. The memories came back to her, of a voice, a face, a stranger, a lover, a monster, a man...

“You can be more.”

Memories of Crichton blurred, his old face, his young face, the man he was, the man she saw...

And she remembered the first time she reached her hand out to Pilot's face, his initial hesitance, and then acceptance, as she brushed the side of his cheek. The touch of his skin.

“I made him a promise,” Aeryn said, and this time her lips spoke along with her mind. She said it with the certainty of a soldier proudly accepting death. She said it with the certainty of the end of the universe. Her new constant in life, to never break it, to never change and come back on her word. And Orona knew she meant it.

 

Thank you.

 

****

Braca arrived on the command deck of his Command Carrier well rested. His yeoman informed him the fourth drill had increased response time sufficiently, and Braca agreed, although he had little time to do it.

Bring me the duty roster,” he said. “It's time to start the next shift.”

“Already, sir?”

“We have to be vigilant, lieutenant. We cannot trust the Nebari to be predictable. They're a pathetic drug-addled people, and their religious zeal will drive them to do anything.”

Braca looked out into open space. The giant cone-shaped window was a facade, a computerized illusion created from outer hull sensor readings and lens-based light recording facilities, projected on to the giant wall. As he walked the promenade, Braca could see the Leviathans lingering in the shadow of General G'dishi's Command Carrier, until a massive white vessel blocked their view.

“They're trying to intimidate us,” Braca said, and ordered the view to be changed.

The Nebari ship was twice the size of a Command Carrier, possibly even larger than a Scarran Dreadnought, and could easily overtake them in military engagement. Reinforcements were on their way, including Ambassador Rygel's Hynerian military escort, but even with those vessels on their side Braca wondered if they even stood a chance.

100 cycles ago one of these ships crippled the Carrier Zelbinion and defeated and enslaved its legendary captain Durka. The Nebari probed and conditioned his mind for eons until he was able to free himself. As the thought crossed Braca's mind, he adjusted his leather captain's jacket.

“Sir,” one of his navigators spoke. “There seems to be activity....”

He stopped, and checked again. “Sir! There is a vessel inbound!”

“They're early,” Braca said. “What kind of configuration?”

Braca peered over the navigator's shoulder and checked the readings for himself.

The colour drained from Braca's face. “Contact Scorpius. Immediately!”

 

****

 

“Sir! There's a Scarran Decimator on a direct course for the planet, but en route something seemed to have detached itself from the ship and is heading straight for the fourth moon. It's small. It can't be more than a Pod carrying no more than a single passenger. There's more.

We've intercepted a transmission between the two craft and managed to decode it. Sir, it reads: “Board the Leviathan. Secure Crichton's ship at all cost, and take his offspring captive. Terminate the rest.”

 

****

 

Rygel gazed out the forward portal at Pilot's request. He didn't seem worried. The Scarran vessel was heading straight for the planet, but indeed there was something else getting rather close towards the fourth moon.

“They can't know we're here, can they?” Rygel wondered aloud.

Fess stared at the same object and sheathed his knife as he walked closer to the screen.

“Pilot?” he said, what's it's trajectory? Pilot?”

“It's heading straight for us! Moya is afraid! She will not risk being seen by the Peacekeepers! She won't run!”

“What else is she going to do?” Rygel bellowed. “Just Starburst already! Get us the frell out of here! We don't have another choice!”

Pilot agreed. “Initiating Starburst!”

Rygel closed his eyes, almost in prayer. “Forgive us, Aeryn...”

 

****

 

Sometimes she'd slip in and out of consciousness, and lose sense of what was real and what wasn't. It was as if she was trapped down a deep dark well shouting upward for anyone to hear her, but they all passed by the well as if they could not hear, ignoring her pleas. At the bottom of the well, there was only the voice for company.

“Are you all right?”

When Aeryn opened her eyes, a young girl looked up at her. A young technician, with sweat and fluid sticking to her forehead, and a spanner in her hand. Orona did not feel them working inside her brain, but Aeryn did. With every adjustment she felt connections being severed or made, and Orona's consciousness seeped into her own, like waves on a beach, sometimes close, other times distant.

“You were talking,” the technician said. “Out loud. Was it the creature? Can you hear her?”

“Listen,” Aeryn said, cutting her off. “I need you to find my husband. It's important.”

“But we're not allowed to-”

“Something's gonna happen, and I can't.... “

She tried to reach out to him as she did before, but with so many memories and sensations flooding her she couldn't be sure whether she hadn't dreamed it all.

“You have to find him...”

“I'll have to talk to commander Deccan...”

“No! I don't trust him!”

Aeryn buried her face in her hands, but they felt alien to her, as if the cold that was coursing through her body numbed her, disconnected her, from herself.

The weight of the cables attached to her arms, spine and neck pulled her down. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear them off, but she managed to contain herself, restrict herself within her discipline and will.

Her mind touched a million other minds waiting on the edges of her senses. Orona was all of them, and none. Aeryn could hear them, feel them, and little by little their collective memories, their cultural heritage lasting a thousand generations, rushed over her.

It was torture. There was no other word to describe it. There was no other way to deal with it. She couldn't even hear the girl anymore, even though she vaguely understood she was still there. She was the enemy. She was a child. This technician had no idea what she was tampering with. She was a cog in the machine. One scale among many. One star in the night sky, blinded by the sun.

And what about Aeryn herself? Who was she? She couldn't remember.

She focused on her children, what they looked like, what they felt like in her hands, how she felt when she held them in their arms, how they maddened her, and frightened her, and made her stronger. She closed her eyes and saw them on Moya, imagined them alive and well and safe.

She was losing it, like a drop of water in the ocean.

 

****

 

The young technician ran for the Peacekeeper physicians for help.

“I don't know what happened,” she said as she lead the doctors across the bridge. “One microt I was talking to her, the next she started rambling on, always repeating the same phrases.”

They found Aeryn in an almost catatonic state, her eyes glazed and blank staring out into nothing, and her lips mouthing breathlessly the same words until her voice returned to her.

“Officer Aeryn Sun. Special Peacekeeper Commando. Icarion Company. Pleisar Regiment.”

The words had been memorized long ago and came to her by nature. The doctors ordered the shutdown of the system, lowered the rate of fitration, and ordered a full examination of the symbiotic connection before they were allowed to continue.

After a while, Aeryn began to slowly regain control of herself, if only for a moment, to finally realize her words were wrong. She closed her eyes, cleared her dry mouth, and began anew.

“Captain Aeryn Sun,” she started, and the doctors looked up. “Mother. Moya. Wife. Soldier. Pilot. John. Rygel. Chiana. D'Argo. Zhaan...”

She repeated the names. Over. And over. It was the only thing that kept her from going insane.


	7. Killjoy

There was no sound in space as the two objects neared. The last the planet surface could detect of the smaller craft was just before it entered the shadow of the moon, but from there it seared on relentlessly. Moya veered, a blue spark at her tail, a ballet of two ships where her dance partner did not move to any music, or listen to any rules. It went straight for the heart.

Sound returned, briefly then, in a shattering rip of metal versus bone. The Scarran Drone ripped through Moya's hull and buried itself deep between her ribs. The sudden pain was enough to stop Starburst, the blue spark fizzed, lit up and was absorbed into nothingness.

Two decks were exposed to the elements, or lack thereof. Giant doors swung shut as the air was sucked out of Moya's internal system and cast into space, DRD's buzzed bravely to hold on to any surface, until the atmospheres and pressures leveled.

Slowly, Rygel's voice over the comms faded as the air supply did on that deck. “D'Argo! Can you hear me? D'Argo! Stay where you are D'Argo! Just keep your sister safe! Fess will come for you! He'll get you to safety! Can you hear me D'Argo? Can you....”

As the sound waves lost their grip on the air, the vibrations died now, and silence returned. And then the lights went out.

In the dark, the light of the fourth moon beckoned from the gaping hole in Moya's side. Then there was a hiss and a metal plate detached from the drone. From the inside, there came a reptilian claw reaching for the side, and finally the silhouette of a long-necked Scarran, ripped and armored, who slowly rose up from the wreckage. His hand reached for the door.

****

“Unauthorized Scarran vessel,” Commander Losthan spoke at the view portal. “We detect your presence. State your intent.”

General G'dishi's Command Carrier relayed to them the image of the newly arrived Scarran Decimator into orbit around the planet., but so far, other than maintaining speed and distance from the other ships on the other side of the planet, it sent out no communications and made no move to send a landing party to the surface.

“They're bluffing,” Deccan spoke. “They're trying to intimidate us. The Scarran Hierarchy is no doubt merely upset they've been excluded from this meet. They want in.”

“And if we don't let them, they'll force their way in. You know how Scarrans are,” Lothan snapped back. “Oh, wait, you don't. All you care about is those damn Pilots. You stick to your pets, and I'll deal with the defense of this facility, Commander.”

“As it should be, Commander.” he reluctantly agreed.

Deccan didn't need to be reminded of his duty, but to be put in his place in front of the whole staff of the control tower was an unnecessary shaming. To be equal in rank meant their authorities and interests often clashed, but never did Deccan see him so agitated before.

Ten cycles ago the Scarrans conquered half of all Peacekeeperdom during the Peacekeeper War, which they reluctantly abandoned after the armistice was signed under Eidelon 'persuasion'. But the peaceful brainwashing of the Eidelons did not prevent the inevitable border conflicts and petty skirmishes over disputed regions and planets the Scarrans refused to give up. With their military advantage and natural brutality, the Scarrans often just did as they pleased with no concern for the consequences. Most of them were bitter about the end of the war, and bitter that they had to replace their victory with a forced armistice, so they settled for a planet or two.

Of course, in the end, the greatest winner of the Scarran Peacekeeper conflict was the Nebari.

“If you'd like,” Nerri spoke calmly as he stepped into the light, “I could always contact my vessel and tell them to take care of the problem for you.”

Lothan turned, almost expecting it to be a joke, and all other eyes were now on Nerri as well. It would take multiple Command Carriers to take on a single Decimator, and this Nebari spoke about it as if he were offering to remove their rodent problem.

“I know from experience what wild animals Scarrans can be like. It might be better if we were to remove this factor from the equation, before they're allowed to do cease all the attention for themselves.”

Lothan still stared.

“Scarrans have a knack for the dramatic. They like to posture and emit strength, lacking the finesse and self-control of the Luxan, or the discipline and commitment of the Sebacean.”

Nerri nodded his head to Deccan, as if to acknowledge that, yes, indeed, he did compliment the Peacekeepers just now.

“Kill them, or invite them, would be my advice,” Nerri spoke. “But I grow tired of waiting...”

And again his eyes caught Deccan's eyes, as if to impart a message of impatience to someone he knew was busy working on the Pilot project. However, Deccan could proceed yet, not without the approval of the Elder Council.

Lothan ordered his communications officer to continue to hail the Scarrans in orbit.

“Scarran vessel...!”

When Deccan understood why the Nebari liaison had left the tower, he followed his example. It was pointless to wait for a response from the Scarrans because they were going to do whatever they wanted anyway.

There was no-one in the elevator when he activated the console, and when he stepped inside he couldn't help but worry for the future. Events here might escalate out of control, and it all started with a simple plan to help the Pilots. Bringing Scorpius here might have been a mistake, he realized.  
Nerri had been right. Scarrans bring drama. It's in their blood. Their fire.

“Commander Deccan,” a voice rang over the comms, calm, and almost a whisper.

“Scorpius.”

“Are you alone?”

Deccan pressed a button on the wall and the elevator came to a sudden standstill.

“I am.”

“Any news on Moya?” Scorpius asked.

“No, nothing yet. The moon's orbit is making it difficult to get a clear sensor reading.”

“Inform me when their Pilot contacts you, but whatever you do...”

Deccan listened.

“Do not tell Crichton.”

“Sir?”

“When the dust has settled, I will deliver the news personally. But before that, nothing reaches him. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“Good,” Scorpius said. “Now double the guards monitoring the Command Node.”

“I already did, sir.”

“Your conduct is impeccable, commander Deccan. I will not forget that.”

Compliments from Scorpius were always smooth, like liquid, but there was something about the sound of his voice Deccan detested.

“Thank you, sir.”

****

“Send out a distress call! Just do something!” Rygel yelled, but Pilot refused.

“Moya would deal with a single Scarran, rather than risk a control collar from the Peacekeepers!”

“They wouldn't dare! Scorpius wouldn't let them!”

Rygel's throat was getting sore from all the shouting. Nervously he peered down his hoversled to see whether he wasn't hovering above the bottomless chasm.

“We...we have to contact Scorpius! Contact Crichton!”

“I've tried,” Pilot admitted. “But the moon is blocking all our signals!”

Rygel mulled over all the options, quickly. Fess had already gone out to find the children, but he was a hunter and his knives could never pierce a Scarran's tough skin. He'd get burned before he ever got close enough to even try.

“Where's the Scarran now? Do we have a reading on him?”

Pilot checked his internal sensors, co-ordinated the DRD's, and as he did, it didn't take long to find him.

“He's on the lower decks... the Maintenance Bay...”

Rygel turned to the large doors that isolated Pilot's den. They were impossible to burn through. No-one but Pilot could open those doors, but there were other ways of getting inside, and Rygel knew them best.

The comms chirped. “Pilot!”

He sounded desperate. Rygel couldn't say he really liked Fess, nor could he say he had known him long enough to make a proper judgment, but right then he was better than nothing.

“Fess! Fess, where are you?” Rygel said.

“I'm at the children's quarters. I can't hear anything and the doors are locked. I need you to open it.”

“I can't” Pilot said. “Someone's activated a manual override.”

“Clever kids,” Fess said.

Time wasn't on their side, and Rygel knew it. The crew's quarters wasn't close to the Maintenance Bay, but they had to find the kids and take them somewhere safer. Hide them. Somehow, he valued their wellbeing more than his own, and it scared Rygel a little when he realized that. He had something to lose, and more importantly, something they could take away from him. As long as he was capable, he was not going to let that happen. He was those children's godfather. It was his responsibility to keep them safe.

“D'Argo! Can you hear me?” Rygel tried. “Fess is waiting outside your door! You have to let him in!”

****

“D'Argo!” Fess hissed at the door, pressing the palm of his hand against the cold smooth oblong.

With his tongue, he tasted the air. It split into two parts, attached at the stem at the bottom of his mouth, and it moved like two large red tendrils. He could taste their scents, but they were old. If they had holed themselves up inside, he would've sensed their fear or smelled their distress. This didn't add up.

“They're not here.”

“What?” Rygel said.

“I'm a tracker, remember? I don't smell them. They must've gone into the service tunnels.”

“Are you certain?”

“Pilot, how about the DRD's? Have they seen anything?”

“No,” Pilot replied, and Fess considered this.

“These kids were trained well,” he said to himself. “Really well.”

D'Argo knew the stakes. The kid might probably even be better off on his own. Now none of them could tell the Scarran where they were hiding, not even if they broke under the Scarran's mental probing.

Still, there were more ways to flush them out of the bowels of this ship... More unpleasant ways...

“CREW OF MOYA.”

The Scarran's voice was deep, like a bubbling lava pit, and his breaths were heavy and slow. Somehow he must've found a comms unit in the Maintenance Bay. Now he had a direct line to Command, and the rest of the ship.

“SURRENDER TO ME NOW, AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED.”

Fess pretended to consider it for a moment.

“As if we're going to believe that.”


End file.
